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Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Banewreaker in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Banewreaker Will Make You Feel Bad for Sauron
Contains spoilers, click to show
Very few fantasy fans can get away with admitting that they aren’t all that big into sweeping, high epic fantasy à la Lord of the Rings or the Pern stories or everything that Terry Brooks writes. Many non-fantasy fans, however, can point to these tales as examples of why they aren’t into fantasy. Like it or not, it’s hard not to see the latter group’s point, as a lot of high fantasy is riddled with confusing terminology, rehashed stories, and genre clichés. This is not to say that these stories are bad, per sé, just that they can easily turn off readers who aren’t in the right kind of crowd.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Jordan Binkerd (567 KP) rated Gideon's Angel in Books
Aug 15, 2019
Note: this review is transposted from my personal review blog, and so was originally written several years ago. I figured if I reposted it here, someone might actually read it….
I received my copy of Gideon’s Angel through the Goodreads FirstReads program. This in no way influences my review, except to ensure that I was able to get ahold of this book and thus review it. I have to say, I really enjoyed this one. I want to describe it as “steampunk,” but my understanding is that steampunk is usually set in the 1800s (or at least that level of tech and society) whereas this work is firmly set in 1653. If there’s already a term for pseudo-historical fiction with a fantasy touch set in that timeframe, I apologize for not knowing what it is and using it accordingly.
Things are not going well for Richard Treadwell. The English Civil War is over, the King’s Cavaliers lost to the forces of Parliament and Oliver Cromwell, and Charles I has been executed. Treadwell has managed to escape the destruction of his cause, and has spent the past eight years in exile in France, performing a delicate balancing act between loyalty to his exiled king* and his employer, Cardinal Mazarin. When Mazarin informs him that someone is using the forces of Hell to tip the balance in their favor and asks him to spy on the exile court to find out if it is one of the king’s supporters, Treadwell decides that it’s time to get out of Paris. He accepts a mission for one of the king’s more militant supporters that will take him back to his beloved England–to lead a Royalist uprising, one last try to oust Cromwell and his Puritan cronies. Treadwell has other business to tend to as well, including a wife who by now probably considers herself a widow. Unfortunately for Treadwell’s simple worldview, it soon becomes clear that Cromwell’s power is the only thing preventing the more radical Puritan elements from running roughshod over the whole country. Worse still, a demon from the pits of Hell has appeared to a radical Puritan sect masquerading as an angel of light and ordering the death of Cromwell so that the Kingdom of God may be fulfilled. Now instead of assassinating Cromwell Treadwell will be forced to save him–if he can find a way to fight the forces of Hell, gain some allies in his quest, and avoid d’Artagnan, a young Musketeer dispatched by the Cardinal to bear him back to Paris….
I really enjoyed this book. It’s not exactly “high literature,” but I think I’ve very well established that I care far more about a work’s entertainment value than whatever it is critics look for. The world Beal creates here feels very real, slipping in background historical information without making you feel like you’ve been lectured. Some readers will probably wish for more background on the English Civil War, and that’s fine. If they care that much, there are numerous good books on the subject. If they don’t, there’s a Wikipedia article that should give you a good rundown on what happened. Beal manages to evoke seventeenth-century London in all its grimy glory, much as it would have actually been aside from the fact that all the magic we dismiss as superstition is actually going on behind the scenes. Moreover, this magic very much resembles what you would find depicted in the folklore of the era without obvious modern embellishment. I’m not really all that well versed in the history of the Freemasons, so I can’t accurately speak to how they were portrayed here except to say that I very much doubt their claim to date back to the builders of the pyramids. Then again, I doubt they have the tools to summon demons too, so maybe I shouldn’t be too critical. Secondary characters generally proved to be interestingly complex, especially Billy Chard, but I am seeing criticism of how the female characters in the book act. They aren’t weak characters by any means, but they are constrained by their roles in society. Treadwell’s wife has pragmatically joined her fate to that of the officer who took over Treadwell’s land when he was banished and is pregnant with his child. Is she weak for this? Or is she a strong female doing what she has to in order to protect what is left of her family? Treadwell’s Parisian mistress follows him to England rather than stay in Paris and face the scandal of their liasion alone. Weak, for needing Treadwell by her side? Or strong, for following him into whatever dangers he may be facing? Finally, Isabelle decides to follow her father and the rest of Treadwell’s band into battle against the forces of Darkness, deciding that it would be better to fall by his side than live on without him. Possibly a sign of weakness, but look at her situation realistically. She and her father were driven from Spain for their Jewish heritage, her mother dying along the way. Jews do not fare well in the Christian world of the seventeenth century, not even in England. The lot of a young woman alone in the world is already hard enough in this time without adding the burden of religious and ethnic persecution. She would have no respectable means of supporting herself, and could conceivably find herself forced into prostitution–on her own if she was lucky, as no more than a slave if she was not. Is preferring death in battle to such a fate a sign of weakness or of strength? She certainly has no trouble speaking her mind, and in fact berates Treadwell severely for endangering her father when they first meet. I suppose I can understand where some people would find these characters and their portrayal to be weak and sexist, but I respectfully disagree. I submit that instead they are strong characters reacting realistically to a world where women are not treated equally–in fact, I would have more of a problem with them if they demonstrated anachronistic modern sensibilities.** The ending was a little deus ex machina, but on the whole I didn’t mind. I would say that I want to read a sequel, but I don’t think the author could come up with anything to top this in terms of personal impact on the characters–Treadwell’s internal conflict between hating Cromwell and having to save him is very well done, and I fear Beal would prove unable to find something equally interesting as a follow up. We never really got to find out what happened to Treadwell back during the Thirty Years War that introduced him to the world of angels and demons, so I could see maybe writing that up….I’d buy it, anyway.
CONTENT: R-rated language, occasionally harsh but I would argue not gratuitous. Moderately explicit sexual content, as you would expect from a work in this vein.*** A fair amount of violence, from both man and demon. Not usually too gory in its description. There is also a good deal of occult content, as the villains are summoning a demon they believe to be an angel. This demon’s lesser minions dog Treadwell and his friends, and there are multiple encounters with them. One is implied to be a golem, others appear as strange amalgamations of beast(s) and man. For me, this is adequately balanced by the recognition that, as powerful as the forces of Darkness are, God is far more powerful than they. Bottom line: if you’re mature enough to handle the other content, I don’t believe the occult elements should prove to be an issue.
*Charles I was executed, while his son Charles II went into exile. Just in case you were concerned with the historical accuracy of the book. So far as I can tell, this is pretty accurate. You know, aside from the demons and fictional characters roaming London…..
**Please understand, I’m neither defending nor endorsing the inequality of the seventeenth century. Neither is Clifford Beal, for that matter. I’m simply pointing out that it was how it was, and this was the world the characters would have come from. I’m all for equality, but to whitewash history and pretend it was different from it was….that way lies dangerous waters.
***This evokes more than anything a supernatural-tinged Alexandre Dumas novel for me….and you know how bawdry his musketeers could be when they wanted to be.
Original post: https://jordanbinkerd.wordpress.com/2013/10/24/review-gideons-angel-by-clifford-beal/
I received my copy of Gideon’s Angel through the Goodreads FirstReads program. This in no way influences my review, except to ensure that I was able to get ahold of this book and thus review it. I have to say, I really enjoyed this one. I want to describe it as “steampunk,” but my understanding is that steampunk is usually set in the 1800s (or at least that level of tech and society) whereas this work is firmly set in 1653. If there’s already a term for pseudo-historical fiction with a fantasy touch set in that timeframe, I apologize for not knowing what it is and using it accordingly.
Things are not going well for Richard Treadwell. The English Civil War is over, the King’s Cavaliers lost to the forces of Parliament and Oliver Cromwell, and Charles I has been executed. Treadwell has managed to escape the destruction of his cause, and has spent the past eight years in exile in France, performing a delicate balancing act between loyalty to his exiled king* and his employer, Cardinal Mazarin. When Mazarin informs him that someone is using the forces of Hell to tip the balance in their favor and asks him to spy on the exile court to find out if it is one of the king’s supporters, Treadwell decides that it’s time to get out of Paris. He accepts a mission for one of the king’s more militant supporters that will take him back to his beloved England–to lead a Royalist uprising, one last try to oust Cromwell and his Puritan cronies. Treadwell has other business to tend to as well, including a wife who by now probably considers herself a widow. Unfortunately for Treadwell’s simple worldview, it soon becomes clear that Cromwell’s power is the only thing preventing the more radical Puritan elements from running roughshod over the whole country. Worse still, a demon from the pits of Hell has appeared to a radical Puritan sect masquerading as an angel of light and ordering the death of Cromwell so that the Kingdom of God may be fulfilled. Now instead of assassinating Cromwell Treadwell will be forced to save him–if he can find a way to fight the forces of Hell, gain some allies in his quest, and avoid d’Artagnan, a young Musketeer dispatched by the Cardinal to bear him back to Paris….
I really enjoyed this book. It’s not exactly “high literature,” but I think I’ve very well established that I care far more about a work’s entertainment value than whatever it is critics look for. The world Beal creates here feels very real, slipping in background historical information without making you feel like you’ve been lectured. Some readers will probably wish for more background on the English Civil War, and that’s fine. If they care that much, there are numerous good books on the subject. If they don’t, there’s a Wikipedia article that should give you a good rundown on what happened. Beal manages to evoke seventeenth-century London in all its grimy glory, much as it would have actually been aside from the fact that all the magic we dismiss as superstition is actually going on behind the scenes. Moreover, this magic very much resembles what you would find depicted in the folklore of the era without obvious modern embellishment. I’m not really all that well versed in the history of the Freemasons, so I can’t accurately speak to how they were portrayed here except to say that I very much doubt their claim to date back to the builders of the pyramids. Then again, I doubt they have the tools to summon demons too, so maybe I shouldn’t be too critical. Secondary characters generally proved to be interestingly complex, especially Billy Chard, but I am seeing criticism of how the female characters in the book act. They aren’t weak characters by any means, but they are constrained by their roles in society. Treadwell’s wife has pragmatically joined her fate to that of the officer who took over Treadwell’s land when he was banished and is pregnant with his child. Is she weak for this? Or is she a strong female doing what she has to in order to protect what is left of her family? Treadwell’s Parisian mistress follows him to England rather than stay in Paris and face the scandal of their liasion alone. Weak, for needing Treadwell by her side? Or strong, for following him into whatever dangers he may be facing? Finally, Isabelle decides to follow her father and the rest of Treadwell’s band into battle against the forces of Darkness, deciding that it would be better to fall by his side than live on without him. Possibly a sign of weakness, but look at her situation realistically. She and her father were driven from Spain for their Jewish heritage, her mother dying along the way. Jews do not fare well in the Christian world of the seventeenth century, not even in England. The lot of a young woman alone in the world is already hard enough in this time without adding the burden of religious and ethnic persecution. She would have no respectable means of supporting herself, and could conceivably find herself forced into prostitution–on her own if she was lucky, as no more than a slave if she was not. Is preferring death in battle to such a fate a sign of weakness or of strength? She certainly has no trouble speaking her mind, and in fact berates Treadwell severely for endangering her father when they first meet. I suppose I can understand where some people would find these characters and their portrayal to be weak and sexist, but I respectfully disagree. I submit that instead they are strong characters reacting realistically to a world where women are not treated equally–in fact, I would have more of a problem with them if they demonstrated anachronistic modern sensibilities.** The ending was a little deus ex machina, but on the whole I didn’t mind. I would say that I want to read a sequel, but I don’t think the author could come up with anything to top this in terms of personal impact on the characters–Treadwell’s internal conflict between hating Cromwell and having to save him is very well done, and I fear Beal would prove unable to find something equally interesting as a follow up. We never really got to find out what happened to Treadwell back during the Thirty Years War that introduced him to the world of angels and demons, so I could see maybe writing that up….I’d buy it, anyway.
CONTENT: R-rated language, occasionally harsh but I would argue not gratuitous. Moderately explicit sexual content, as you would expect from a work in this vein.*** A fair amount of violence, from both man and demon. Not usually too gory in its description. There is also a good deal of occult content, as the villains are summoning a demon they believe to be an angel. This demon’s lesser minions dog Treadwell and his friends, and there are multiple encounters with them. One is implied to be a golem, others appear as strange amalgamations of beast(s) and man. For me, this is adequately balanced by the recognition that, as powerful as the forces of Darkness are, God is far more powerful than they. Bottom line: if you’re mature enough to handle the other content, I don’t believe the occult elements should prove to be an issue.
*Charles I was executed, while his son Charles II went into exile. Just in case you were concerned with the historical accuracy of the book. So far as I can tell, this is pretty accurate. You know, aside from the demons and fictional characters roaming London…..
**Please understand, I’m neither defending nor endorsing the inequality of the seventeenth century. Neither is Clifford Beal, for that matter. I’m simply pointing out that it was how it was, and this was the world the characters would have come from. I’m all for equality, but to whitewash history and pretend it was different from it was….that way lies dangerous waters.
***This evokes more than anything a supernatural-tinged Alexandre Dumas novel for me….and you know how bawdry his musketeers could be when they wanted to be.
Original post: https://jordanbinkerd.wordpress.com/2013/10/24/review-gideons-angel-by-clifford-beal/
Purple Phoenix Games (2266 KP) rated Sheriff of Nottingham in Tabletop Games
Nov 16, 2021
One neat thing about the board gaming hobby is how many new games are designed/created daily. So much innovation, creativity, and hype surrounds new releases and helps keep us gamers hooked! That being said, what happens to older games as time goes on? Can they still hold their own over the years? Do they still feel new and novel to first-time players who are getting to them late? The latter describes me with Sheriff of Nottingham. I only received it for Christmas two years ago, and it has sadly been sitting on my Shelf of Shame until recently. So now that I’ve finally gotten it to the table, how does it hold up? Keep reading to find out!
Disclaimer: I have the first edition of this game, so the pictures below do not reflect the art/component changes brought in the recently released second edition. -L
Sheriff of Nottingham is a party game of bluffing, negotiation, and set collection in which players are trying to earn the most money by bringing their goods (Legal or Contraband!) to market. However, before those goods can get to your merchant stand, they must be cleared to pass by the Sheriff of Nottingham. Are you honest in your declarations, or are you trying to sneak something past the town authority? Bluff, bribe, or negotiate your way to victory and collect the most gold!
To setup for a game of Sheriff of Nottingham, each player receives a merchant stand board and bag in their chosen color, 20 starting gold, and 6 Goods cards. The remaining Goods cards are placed in a draw pile, with 2 adjacent discard piles. Turn over 5 cards to each discard pile, select a starting Sheriff, and the game is ready to begin! Sheriff of Nottingham is played over a series of rounds, and each round is broken down into 5 phases: Market, Load Merchant Bag, Declaration, Inspection, and End of Round. Important note – the player acting as Sheriff for the round will only act in the Inspection phase of a round. During the Market phase, players have the opportunity to discard unwanted Goods from their hand in order to draw cards from the draw pile or either discard pile. New cards are drawn one at a time, and you will draw as many cards as you have chosen to discard. The cards you discard will be placed in either discard pile, in whatever order you choose.
The next phase, Load Merchant Bag, is pretty self-explanatory. All merchant players will select up to 5 cards from their hand to place in their merchant bag. Snap it closed, and place it in front of you for the next phase, Declaration. In this phase, players will take turns declaring what good they are bringing to market. You must say exactly how many cards you are bringing, and you may only declare 1 type of Legal good! Even if your bag has multiple types of goods, you must declare only 1 type. Here is where your bluffing skills come into play! Once all players have made their declarations, the game moves to the Inspection phase, and it is now time for the Sheriff to act! In this phase, the Sheriff will get to decide if they wish to inspect any of the merchant bags, and merchants will have the opportunity to negotiate or bribe the Sheriff to not inspect their bag, or to inspect an opponent’s bag instead. If you make a deal with the Sheriff, you must hold up your end of the agreement!
Once the Sheriff has made their decision, they will either inspect bags or allow them to pass. If you are allowed to pass, you will take back your bag, open it, and add all goods to your merchant stand in their corresponding locations. Legal goods are known to all players, but Contraband goods are kept face-down. If the Sheriff chose to inspect your bag, they will open it and reveal the cards inside. If you were in fact telling the truth, and the cards inside are exactly what you declared, you add them to your merchant stand and the Sheriff will pay you a penalty for each Good card in your bag. If you were lying, a few things happen. First, any goods that were truthfully declared will go to your merchant stand as normal. Any goods that you lied about are confiscated by the Sheriff, and placed onto either discard pile. You then will pay the Sheriff a penalty fee for each confiscated good! The final phase, End of Round, has all players draw back up to 6 cards in hand, and the Sheriff title passes to the next player. The game continues in this fashion until all players have been the Sheriff twice (or three times in a 3-player game). Points are counted up – from your goods in your merchant stand, any gold coins you possess, and any bonus points for majority of Legal goods compared to opponents. Once all points have been tallied, the player with the highest score wins!
I know that I have said before that I generally don’t like bluffing games, but I think that Sheriff of Nottingham might be an exception. Yes, in some cases you will have to bluff about the contents of your merchant bag, but the ability to bribe/negotiate with the Sheriff takes some focus off the actual bluffing part. Can you convince the Sheriff to inspect another player’s bag just because you are trying to hinder that player? Or do you try to get the Sheriff to inspect your own bag, because then they will have to pay you a penalty fee for your honesty (this round, at least). It feels like there is more strategic gameplay here than simple bluffing, and I like the opportunity to strategize instead of relying solely on my (admittedly horrendous) poker-face.
Another thing that I really like about Sheriff of Nottingham is that it can technically be categorized as a party game, but it doesn’t feel like a typical party game to me. It takes strategy to play, and doesn’t just rely on crude/adult humor for laughs. This game really engages all players at all times, as you’re constantly watching your opponents, keeping track of what goods they seem to be collecting, and trying to catch them in a lie. The gameplay itself is pretty streamlined and straightforward, and that just helps to make it flow naturally and logically. The playing time is listed as 60 minutes, but it doesn’t feel like a long game to me at all. It’s just a light, fun, and entertaining game for really any type of game night.
Let’s talk components for a minute. Again, I have the first edition of the game, so I cannot speak as to any component changes in the second edition. But overall, the quality of the first edition is pretty nice! The merchant stand boards are nice, thick cardboard, and are colorful and clear. Perhaps my favorite part of the boards is they each have a turn order reference on them. Not that the gameplay is that complicated, but it’s nice to just have that quick guide. The Goods cards are good quality and feel nice in hand. The artwork is mostly pretty simple, but I like that, since the crux of the gameplay is in the player interactions. The cardboard coins are chunky, and the insert doubles as a draw/discard pile organizer – which to me is a lifesaver! Nothing bothers me more than unruly stacks of cards. The merchant bags are nice and mostly functional. My biggest issue with them is that sometimes the snaps are a little hard to open, and it feels like you might tear the bag if you pull on them too hard. To alleviate that, I just don’t have players actually close the snap, instead just folding over the flap, and that works just as well! Great production quality in my opinion.
So if I seem to like this game, why did I only give it a 4 out of 6? The simple answer to that is that I do like the game, but I don’t love it. It’s fun and serves its purpose well, but it’s not a game that I am dying to pull out every game night. It’s one that will stay in my collection for sure, because there are some occasions that are just perfect for it. But it’s not one that will ever make its way to my Top 10. All in all, it holds up well for being an ‘older’ game, but it doesn’t exactly have me jumping up and down to play. That’s why Purple Phoenix Games gives this one an 11 / 18.
Disclaimer: I have the first edition of this game, so the pictures below do not reflect the art/component changes brought in the recently released second edition. -L
Sheriff of Nottingham is a party game of bluffing, negotiation, and set collection in which players are trying to earn the most money by bringing their goods (Legal or Contraband!) to market. However, before those goods can get to your merchant stand, they must be cleared to pass by the Sheriff of Nottingham. Are you honest in your declarations, or are you trying to sneak something past the town authority? Bluff, bribe, or negotiate your way to victory and collect the most gold!
To setup for a game of Sheriff of Nottingham, each player receives a merchant stand board and bag in their chosen color, 20 starting gold, and 6 Goods cards. The remaining Goods cards are placed in a draw pile, with 2 adjacent discard piles. Turn over 5 cards to each discard pile, select a starting Sheriff, and the game is ready to begin! Sheriff of Nottingham is played over a series of rounds, and each round is broken down into 5 phases: Market, Load Merchant Bag, Declaration, Inspection, and End of Round. Important note – the player acting as Sheriff for the round will only act in the Inspection phase of a round. During the Market phase, players have the opportunity to discard unwanted Goods from their hand in order to draw cards from the draw pile or either discard pile. New cards are drawn one at a time, and you will draw as many cards as you have chosen to discard. The cards you discard will be placed in either discard pile, in whatever order you choose.
The next phase, Load Merchant Bag, is pretty self-explanatory. All merchant players will select up to 5 cards from their hand to place in their merchant bag. Snap it closed, and place it in front of you for the next phase, Declaration. In this phase, players will take turns declaring what good they are bringing to market. You must say exactly how many cards you are bringing, and you may only declare 1 type of Legal good! Even if your bag has multiple types of goods, you must declare only 1 type. Here is where your bluffing skills come into play! Once all players have made their declarations, the game moves to the Inspection phase, and it is now time for the Sheriff to act! In this phase, the Sheriff will get to decide if they wish to inspect any of the merchant bags, and merchants will have the opportunity to negotiate or bribe the Sheriff to not inspect their bag, or to inspect an opponent’s bag instead. If you make a deal with the Sheriff, you must hold up your end of the agreement!
Once the Sheriff has made their decision, they will either inspect bags or allow them to pass. If you are allowed to pass, you will take back your bag, open it, and add all goods to your merchant stand in their corresponding locations. Legal goods are known to all players, but Contraband goods are kept face-down. If the Sheriff chose to inspect your bag, they will open it and reveal the cards inside. If you were in fact telling the truth, and the cards inside are exactly what you declared, you add them to your merchant stand and the Sheriff will pay you a penalty for each Good card in your bag. If you were lying, a few things happen. First, any goods that were truthfully declared will go to your merchant stand as normal. Any goods that you lied about are confiscated by the Sheriff, and placed onto either discard pile. You then will pay the Sheriff a penalty fee for each confiscated good! The final phase, End of Round, has all players draw back up to 6 cards in hand, and the Sheriff title passes to the next player. The game continues in this fashion until all players have been the Sheriff twice (or three times in a 3-player game). Points are counted up – from your goods in your merchant stand, any gold coins you possess, and any bonus points for majority of Legal goods compared to opponents. Once all points have been tallied, the player with the highest score wins!
I know that I have said before that I generally don’t like bluffing games, but I think that Sheriff of Nottingham might be an exception. Yes, in some cases you will have to bluff about the contents of your merchant bag, but the ability to bribe/negotiate with the Sheriff takes some focus off the actual bluffing part. Can you convince the Sheriff to inspect another player’s bag just because you are trying to hinder that player? Or do you try to get the Sheriff to inspect your own bag, because then they will have to pay you a penalty fee for your honesty (this round, at least). It feels like there is more strategic gameplay here than simple bluffing, and I like the opportunity to strategize instead of relying solely on my (admittedly horrendous) poker-face.
Another thing that I really like about Sheriff of Nottingham is that it can technically be categorized as a party game, but it doesn’t feel like a typical party game to me. It takes strategy to play, and doesn’t just rely on crude/adult humor for laughs. This game really engages all players at all times, as you’re constantly watching your opponents, keeping track of what goods they seem to be collecting, and trying to catch them in a lie. The gameplay itself is pretty streamlined and straightforward, and that just helps to make it flow naturally and logically. The playing time is listed as 60 minutes, but it doesn’t feel like a long game to me at all. It’s just a light, fun, and entertaining game for really any type of game night.
Let’s talk components for a minute. Again, I have the first edition of the game, so I cannot speak as to any component changes in the second edition. But overall, the quality of the first edition is pretty nice! The merchant stand boards are nice, thick cardboard, and are colorful and clear. Perhaps my favorite part of the boards is they each have a turn order reference on them. Not that the gameplay is that complicated, but it’s nice to just have that quick guide. The Goods cards are good quality and feel nice in hand. The artwork is mostly pretty simple, but I like that, since the crux of the gameplay is in the player interactions. The cardboard coins are chunky, and the insert doubles as a draw/discard pile organizer – which to me is a lifesaver! Nothing bothers me more than unruly stacks of cards. The merchant bags are nice and mostly functional. My biggest issue with them is that sometimes the snaps are a little hard to open, and it feels like you might tear the bag if you pull on them too hard. To alleviate that, I just don’t have players actually close the snap, instead just folding over the flap, and that works just as well! Great production quality in my opinion.
So if I seem to like this game, why did I only give it a 4 out of 6? The simple answer to that is that I do like the game, but I don’t love it. It’s fun and serves its purpose well, but it’s not a game that I am dying to pull out every game night. It’s one that will stay in my collection for sure, because there are some occasions that are just perfect for it. But it’s not one that will ever make its way to my Top 10. All in all, it holds up well for being an ‘older’ game, but it doesn’t exactly have me jumping up and down to play. That’s why Purple Phoenix Games gives this one an 11 / 18.
